


Like Forever Turns

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [52]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, I Should Stop Now, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Motion Sickness, Nausea, Sickfic?, Stealth dating, Swearing, Terrible Carnival Food, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, because I don't know how to feel about that, carnivals, does that make this some weird form of Steenerico Hurt/Comfort?, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, oh god the crack tags, stealth angst, stealth romance, unhealthy eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: The Not Date turns out exactly as one would expect.Also, way too much fucking foreshadowing.Because I can't help myself apparently.





	Like Forever Turns

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> So, this week was awful. Well, that might be overselling it a little, but it was pretty bad. Fair warning, this is probably not good. I had about ten minutes to edit this and format it correctly, so I imagine that I overlooked many terrible misspellings and horrendous grammar errors. Apologies in advance. My seasonal insomnia is acting up again and I had a lot of shit going on irl this last week, so I didn't get a whole lot of sleep. On the plus side, all the sleepless nights meant that I've gotten the Left at the Cross Roads thing almost sorted out. So yay?
> 
> At least this one isn't a hot mess because of the subject matter, for the most part ^.^

Sami scuffs the filthy pavement beneath his sneaker, watching his shoe scrap across the grungy ground. He draws in a breath, wincing and coughing as his lungs immediately fill with musty smoke from the concession stands and all the dust the people around him are kicking up.

Grimacing, Sami shifts, glancing around furtively as the air seems to close in on him. He realizes belatedly that perhaps Kevin was onto something with his obtuse complaining earlier. Now that Sami is by himself, the crowds do indeed seem to large, to squished together. The very air around him seems to be toxic, the oxygen compressed between all the cigarette smoke and noxious grease fires.

Almost as soon as he has the thought, a group of children go running past, their little bare feet pounding across the dry, cracked earth as they enthusiastically chase each other through the fair grounds, squealing in delight. Sami can practically feel the childlike wonder radiating off of them, though he does wish that the dust would settle before it gives him the black lung.

“Hey! I said that’ll be six-fifty. Stop standing in front of my stall, gawking like a dingbat.”

Sami jumps, turning back to the irritated vendor, guilt rushing through him as he realizes he spaced out for who knows ow long.

Damn it.

-Them's the breaks-

Sami hands the concession stand attendant what he asked for, practically throwing the money at the poor man, before snatching up the cup and the little paper tray and hustling away. He shoots the people in line an apologetic look, but they all seem too interested in each each other or the things going on around them to even notice that he had apparently been holding up the line.

Well.

At least I didn’t inconvenience anyone.

(except the vendor)

-It's what we are good at after all-

Sami sighs, sidestepping his way around a gaggle of giggling teenagers. The Styrofoam cup feels extra fragile in his hands at this moment, surrounded as he is, by rowdy carnival attendants. He picks up his pace, eager to get back and to at least a form of chaos that he knows and is somewhat comfortable with.

-That is one way to put it-

Well, I mean-

“Would you get the fuck away from me, you simpering dick hole?”

-Speak of the devil-

Sami pushes past the people in front of him, the angry words dragging him out of his mopey introspection and tossing him bewilderingly back into the present moment. Ignoring the vaguely annoyed looks, Sami bustles the last few step towards his destination arriving just in time to get an eyeful of a couple of confused soccer moms and a glare that for some reason makes his heart sing.

-Issues-

(...yeah)

“Sorry it took me so long. I got you some clear soda,” Sami supplies to the angry snarl he receives upon his arrival. He extends his hand, shaking the cup until the little ice cubes rattle around within the Styrofoam. The ladies look like they want to continue whatever it was they had been doing before Sami got there, but he just flashes them his best smile, hoping that they will get the message that he has this particular situation under control.

-Really?-

(well)

Sort of.

-Right-

I mean.

I have it under control in **theory**.

-Sure-

(listen...!)

-Delusional-

They seem to get the message, glancing uncertainly at each other before shooting Sami a few uncertain looks. He just waves them off, ignoring the volcanic heat pelting the side of his face from the furious scowl Kevin is searing him with.

(not like that is anything new)

-Hey now-

The ladies leave, looking thoroughly concerned and completely unconvinced. Sami doesn’t take their apprehension as an insult though, as he has more pressing matters at hand. Turning his attention back to his companion, he shakes the cup again, wincing slightly at the ragged fierceness on Kevin’s worryingly colorless face.

Kevin glares at him for another long moment, the silence stilted and harsh, though for some reason it still makes Sami’s heart flutter in his chest. Finally, trembling fingers reach out and weakly snatch the cup from Sami’s hands. Kevin drops his eyes, the glare sliding off his face so that he can regard the liquid in the container suspiciously.

Sami makes an exasperated sound, plopping down on the worn park bench beside Kevin.

“It’s just knock-off Sprite. Relax. No one is trying to poison you.”

Kevin turns his head towards Sami, his eyes dark and his expression skeptical.

“The hell you aren’t. This is all your fault to begin with.”

Sami whines softly, the protest dying in his throat when he can’t come up with an actual retort.

They _are_ here because of Sami, after all.

Because it was _Sami_ who insisted that they take a small detour to this cursed place.

It was _Sami_ who turned to Kevin after they got off the octopus, and asked if they could ride the Ferris wheel at least once before they left.

-When he has a point, he has a point-

(but)

(wait)

Sami hangs his head, weathering the glare he is getting form Kevin.

“I didn’t think the Ferris wheel would make you sick. You were just fine on the Tentaclenator thingy.”

Kevin groans, pressing the cool cup to his forehead and closing his eyes, “Ug, can you not remind me of either of those monstrosities? Fuck I think I’m gonna puke up my asshole.”

Sami pats Kevin on the back, a sympathetic noise clawing it’s way up his throat, though he is unsure how welcome his empathy is at this particular moment.

“Well, at least you got to have the experience? I mean, it wasn’t particularly fun but we got to-” Sami struggles to find something, anything productive to end that sentence with, though he ends up coming up a little short. He sighs, adjusting the little paper tray on his lap and shoving a chili fry in his mouth, thoroughly discouraged from the night events.

Kevin stiffens under the hand Sami still has on his back. The muscles tighten and flex under Sami’s fingers, and Sami jerks his hand back in shock as the sensation makes heat crawl up his spin.

What is with tonight?

(jeez)

Kevin swings around, a fresh glare on his face as he stares incredulously down at the french fries in Sami’s hand.

“What the fuck Sami?”

Sami blinks, cocking his head, trying to stamp down the urge to reach out and caress the color returning to Kevin’s cheeks. He tries to focus on Kevin’s annoyance-

-What have we done now?-

-but Kevin’s eyes have finally brightened back up a bit, and he is looking more like himself.

“What?” Sami asks, offering the tray to Kevin, wondering belatedly if he should have gotten Kevin something to eat.

It had not occurred to him, back at the food vendor stall, as he had always assumed that eating when one was suffering from motion sickness was a very bad idea.

Kevin gives him an incredulous look for a long moment, before turning away from Sami, shaking his head as the incredulity slides away to reveal resignation.

“No. I’m about to puke as it is. Why the fuck would you offer a sick man crappy, grease filled heart disease inducing carnival cuisine?”

Sami blinks, leaning around to try and get a better look at the face that Kevin, for some reason, seems to be trying to hide from him.

“I’m sorry? You are looking a little less peaked, I thought you wanted me to share. I didn’t make you sick again, did I?” Sami asks, a bit of panic welling in his chest at the thought. It had been terrifying enough when Kevin had practically launched himself out of the Ferris wheel carriage, only to collapse on a bench not far away with a pained groan that Sami swears he could feel in his toes.

Kevin is silent for a long minute, then silent some more, at least verbally as he brings the cup up to his lips and takes a tentative sip. He sighs, taking a longer drink and Sami relaxes a little.

If Kevin is feeling up to drinking liquids and dragging Sami, he is indeed feeling slightly better.

(thank **goodness** )

“No, you didn’t _make_ me sick. This time,” Kevin says, though it is without his usual steel plated anger.

Sami can’t help the relieved chuckle that filters though his lips, smiling at his companion with more fondness than seems possible for one person to have for another. He is sure, for a moment, that the pure affection will choke him, drain the life from him in this very moment. And yet, that does not sound like a bad way to go, here, with a Kevin who is so content that he is on the border of being **_nice_ ** to Sami, though Sami is aware that Kevin would never admit such a thing.

Sami waits until the wave of sappy delight subsides a bit, afraid if he says anything with it still coursing through him and clogging up his throat, it will come out too overly clingy, and Kevin will draw away from him, like he always does when Sami tells him how he really feels.

(not _always_ )

(there were _times_ )

(places)

( **roadside ditches** )

(where we said the **_things_ ** we always **_meant_ ** to say)

Oh, how Sami **_longs_ ** for that night.

Still, this is **good enough**.

Just being here, with Kevin. Sami doesn’t _need_ the endless declarations of affection to make him happy.

Sami is just as happy here, with **Kevin**.

-As long as **_he_ ** is here-

“I didn’t make you sick last time either,” Sami says, shaking off his naval gazing and returning his attention to the man sitting beside him. Kevin is regarding him oddly, his dark eyes trailing over Sami’s face like he is searching for something, but Sami’s isn’t sure if he wants or needs to know what those dark looks mean.

Kevin takes another drink, slowly contemplating Sami with a dedication that makes Sami feel like the floor has dropped out from under him. Finally, Kevin averts his eyes, gazing off at the din around them and leaving Sami with a strangely bereft sensation.

“Okay, fine. But it _was_ your idea to ride the stupid Ferris wheel.”

Sami sighs, looking down, “Yes it was. But it’s not like I suggested it because I wanted to make you sick. I never even thought that it would make you ill. That octopus thing didn’t.”

Kevin turns back to Sami, raising an eyebrow, “Are you seriously mocking the sick man?”

Sami takes another mouthful of french fry, remembering his manners just long enough not to speak with his mouth full.

“You don’t seem so sick anymore,” Sami points out, offering the tray to Kevin again.

Kevin takes a fry, squinting at Sami in contemplation, “I feel fine. Ish. You wanna go ride the stupid fucking wheel again, since I fucked it up last time?”

Sami blinks, stunned for a moment that Kevin would even offer. The fondness rises up again, touched that Kevin would make such a suggestion, but it is quickly overpowered by the horror that Kevin would willingly put himself through vicious nausea just because he thinks that it is what **Sami** would _want_.

“ ** _No thank you_**. I only wanted to ride it because I thought it would be fun. You being uncomfortable or in pain is not in any way shape or form fun,” Sami says slowly, huddling closer to Kevin, overwhelmed with the need to protect his dear friend for a moment.

From **what** exactly, Sami is not sure.

-himself?-

( ** _me_** )

(maybe)

Kevin snorts derisively at that, “We’re wrestlers, Sami. We hurt each other all the time.”

Sami makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat.

“That is different. That is in the ring, and it is under a set of rules and mutual agreements. And even then, it’s not like I relish hurting you. Why would I ever want to hurt **_you,_ ** of all people?”

Kevin chokes on the french fry in his mouth, swallowing hard before piercing Sami with a dark look that makes Sami’s heart slam anxiously around in his chest.

“Yeah,” Kevin says, something rough and jagged and fierce in his voice, “That would be bad, wouldn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> That was actually kind of cute. Not that I'm bragging or anything, I wasn't even really going for cute. That may be hard to believe, but I swear, I didn't even expect there to be a part two of The Not Date. And yet, here we are. At part two of the afore-mentioned Not Date.
> 
> And these two are still being obtuse bastards.
> 
> (obviously)
> 
> While these two numb nuts act like everything is totally fine and normal and not totally awkward and filled to the brim with UST.
> 
> (because of course they would)
> 
> Anyway, hope it wasn't too bad. I'll try to come back through tomorrow when i have some free time and edit it to be more readable. Hope you at least could read it, and have a relaxing, restful week!


End file.
